Owen's Ordeal
by katiebug123
Summary: Owen of Jesslaw's Ordeal of Knighthood is anything but ordinary. Written for Challenge 2: Ordeal, for the The Seanfhocal Circle challenges.


**Owen's Ordeal**

_Written for Challenge 2: Ordeal _

_for _The Seanfhocal Circle

_by katiebug123_

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Owen of Jesslaw sat on his hands to keep them from shaking madly. He was about to take his Ordeal, and he was so nervous that it was a wonder that his chair wasn't quivering. _The Ordeal is nothing_, he told himself weakly. _I've been through worse than this._

Owen remembered how his older friends had stumbled from the Chamber, faces deathly pale and some with incalculable tears running down their cheeks. _They were a little worse for wear, but they made it_, he thought, trying to lighten his mood. He was waiting for his cousin, Warric of Mandash, to appear from within the Chamber, but Owen was secretly starting to lose hope. His cousin had been in there for almost a half an hour, and Owen could only imagine the horrors that Warric was going through. _I'm next_, he thought, feeling sick to his stomach.

The Chamber door was finally thrown open, and Warric staggered out, throwing his arms up to ward the sudden flash of sunlight. Owen rushed forward, supporting his cousin and half-dragging him to a nearby chair. They didn't quite make it, however, as Warric fell heavily upon his knees and sank his head towards the ground.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed, and hid his eyes as Owen tried to lift him up again. A dozen long gashes on his arms were bleeding, and Warric was covered in sweat. "I didn't mean for…"

"It's alright," Owen whispered. "You don't have to talk about it."

Warric continued to cry helplessly as more of his friends swarmed around him, murmuring in low voices and trying to comfort him.

"Owen of Jesslaw?" a voice boomed, and Owen glanced up, looking for its source. "Your Ordeal begins at sundown tonight." Owen swallowed. Although he couldn't identify the speaker, Owen knew that a priest had chosen him as the Chamber's next victim, and it was all Owen could do to keep the bile rising in his throat from spilling over.

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Owen stepped quietly onto the small set of stairs leading into the room where he was supposed to keep vigil for the night. His soft, indoor shoes made no noise, allowing Owen to breathe deeply and try to tame his wildly beating heart.

A priest appeared, motioning for Owen to slip off his shoes. He did so and entered the small chamber. It was pitch black; Owen could not even tell where the room ended. He heard the door close quietly behind him and sat down, folding his legs into the familiar meditation position. Owen went through the breathing exercises taught by the Mithran priests that called for the calming of the mind.

_How bad will it be?_ he wondered, filtering his breath from his lungs to his mouth. _I remember Kel, Neal, and the Prince's Ordeal—will mine be anything like theirs?_

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Before he knew it, Owen dimly heard the door open again and a soft touch on his arm. The priest motioned for him to follow, and Owen found himself being lead through a small hallway. A huge iron door appeared in front of him; Owen recognized the engravings and knew this to be the entrance into the infamous Chamber.

_Do your worst_, he thought, quelling the fear coursing through him. He knew that something resembling a sneer appeared on his face. _I can take anything you throw at me. My friends survived this, and so will I. We'll have a jolly old time._

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As soon as the doors closed tightly, Owen knew that he was not alone. He felt a presence off in the distance, but he couldn't see the back of the Chamber to identify it. Small, uncertain steps allowed Owen to get a better feel of the Chamber; it was vast, he realized, and there was no furniture, no hidden walls—nothing that interrupted the sounds of his footsteps and his frantically beating heart.

Owen moved to what he thought to be the center of the Chamber and lowered himself to the floor. It was cold, like metal. Owen imagined himself being in a metal-like box, with no windows and only one door. The thought almost made him smile. Almost.

A sudden sound reached his ears. He cocked his head, trying to make out what it was, and it grew louder and louder, until it reverberated in his bones. It was Joren's voice, Owen realized—Joren of Stone Mountain. _But he's dead!_ Owen thought, and listened in panic as his enemy's cold, mocking voice stole around his head, wrapping itself around his heart.

"_It's a page's duty to obey,"_ Joren said, his perfectly pronounced speech chilling Owen's blood. _"Get to work, boy."_

Owen opened his mouth in fury, but then clamped his hands over it before a word escaped—he wasn't allowed to speak while in the Chamber!

"_Are you afraid of the Lump and her friends?" _came a new voice; this one belonged to Vinson of Genlith, Joren's fellow crony. _"You first-year squirts need lessoning."_

Owen screwed up his face, totally expecting the blow that he knew followed, but then, to his surprise, something entirely different happened.

_--Do you remember when this took place?—_a voice asked. Owen started shivering; that voice grated along his skin, shoving against his muscles and bones.

_--Answer me.—_

Owen made himself nod. He didn't know who was speaking to him, but he did know that it wasn't human.

_--Keladry of Mindelan knew she would forever battle those that went against her beliefs. She realized that, while she herself could not stop the world's bullies, she would have friends who would do anything to assist her.—_The chilly voice grew slightly warmer; instead of creeping along Owen's skin, it slid past him and drifted lazily up into the air.

_--Are you one of those friends?—_

Owen nodded again past the tight lump in his throat. He remembered that day well—the day that Joren and his callous friends were forcing him to clean up ink that plainly wasn't there. Kel had appeared to save him, but instead of leaving, Owen had joined her in the fight, and thought that the whole thing had been jolly and wanted to learn more about Kel's watch-and-wait style of fighting.

_I'm lucky to have made a friend in Kel,_ he thought, and was not shocked when the voice of the Chamber answered.

_--Keladry is not a girl to be crossed. She knows the path that she is meant to follow, and it is a difficult one indeed. The question is, Owen of Jesslaw: What is the path that you are meant to wander?—_

Owen sat there, the question mulling around in his mind. Although he didn't have an answer, he knew that whatever he was destined for, it would always be tied with Kel and her friends'.

_--Perhaps you are not such a fool as everyone believes. You yourself are a formidable opponent…Your friends recognize the same courage and loyalty in you as in someone else they know.—_

_Who? _Owen asked silently.

_--Your teacher, Wyldon of Cavall.—_

Owen rocked back, overwhelmed with this praise. _No one _was compared to Lord Wyldon. He was a character all on his own, and to be matched up to him…it was a high commendation, indeed.

_--You have the same spirit and bravery that your training master does. You just don't realize it.—_

Owen felt his heart constrict. _Why are you saying this? _he cried in his mind. _Why aren't you being cruel and ruthless, like everyone says?_

_--I am not to be judged by mere humans.—_The Chamber said, its voice going steely once more. _–While it's true that I am known for my mercilessness and brutality, I like to change things up a bit.—_

Owen could have sworn that a tiny tone of amusement had entered its voice. He sat there, squinting up into the darkness, and asked, _So, this is it? My Ordeal?_

_--Would you rather me produce something different?—_the Chamber asked, and Owen saw an image flash before his eyes—that of Corus' biggest library, the one that he spent nearly everyday at, its humongous contents of books going up in flames.

_No!_ he cried, swiping a hand in from of him—and the image disappeared.

_--You do not need to weather a physical battle to prove your worth, --_ the Chamber said, its throaty voice strangely kind. _–You will have innumerable chances to verify yourself that way. Too often have Knights-to-be presumed that physical strength is all that matters. People like Keladry and yourself are living proof that your mind can be just as powerful as your body. I do not wish you to weather a battle today—instead, think on what I have said. Remain true to your friends, for they will need your spirit and bravery in the future.—_

Owen knew a dismissal when he heard one. He walked up to the huge, iron door and started to push, but then he paused. _Who are you?_ he asked.

A few moments of silence convinced him that he was done here, but then the voice spoke.

_--I am only the Chamber.—_

Owen nodded, offered a cheerful wave, and walked out of the Chamber with his head held high and a smile on his face.

_Fin._


End file.
